


Fakebook

by mesozoic



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, I swear a lot sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesozoic/pseuds/mesozoic
Summary: Adrien learns that someone has set up a Facebook account in his name. Things escalate.





	1. Chapter 1

Upon entering the classroom, Adrien was greeted by slow, solitary clapping. He froze, one hand lingering on the doorframe, blinking down at the flat expression on Nino’s face. What-

 

“Behold! The King of Comedy has arrived!” 

 

...

 

Adrien’s face automatically stretched into some sort of smile - an unsure twitch of lips - as he immediately shrugged on his coat of “yes I am socially competent and understand exactly what you're referencing”. Ha haaa, yes Adrien, inside jokes are a pinch for you. 

 

His brain scrambled itself to a consistency matching runny eggs trying to think of what on earth his friend was talking about. 

 

“Haaaaaaa…?” Adrien tried, gingerly slipping into his seat. No response. Crap. Wrong. He kept his eyes fixed on the side of Nino’s face. Please give me a social cue, Nino's face. Please give me a-

 

Nino gave him a long side-eye that let slip absolutely zero information. Oh geez. Um- 

 

Oh! Of course! Banter. Yes. “King Of Comedy”, he’d said. Follow his lead. Yes. Okay. Go.

 

“Please,” Adrien drawled, lifting his chin and flicking his hair away from his forehead with a regal twist of his fingers. “No need to address me so formally.”

 

Nailed it.

 

Nino’s expression soured and Adrien had half a second to panic before he was smacked clean across the face with a baseball cap.

 

It occurred to Adrien in that moment that Nino might be upset with him.

 

Nino who was currently talking. Nino who didn't sound very happy and if Adrien wanted to find out why, he should probably peel the hat off his face and pay attention-

 

“-all my contacts, some of them I'll never be able to find again! Not to mention my following, and my gig bookings, and… And! You could at least apologise, this is really serious!”

 

Apologise he did, instantly, “I’m sorry” being such a well-rehearsed rabbit pulled from the hat.

 

That only seemed to make Nino angrier. “And don't give me those fake-ass puppy-eyes! 

 

Adrien’s puppy-eyes were anything but fake-ass. 

 

What what what what what-

 

“What?”

 

Adrien almost missed Nino’s interjection between the ticker tape of whats running through his head.

 

What what? His brain screamed. What? WHAT?

 

“What?” he echoed. Wow. That sounded stupid even to him.

 

“What  _ what?”  _ Nino narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“W-what?” 

“What?!”

“Wh-”

“Dude I swear to god I’m about this close-”

 

“What’s up,” blared Alya. 

 

Nino threw his hands in the air with a frustrated howl, snatching his hat back and swivelling away from Adrien. 

 

“Hmph,” said Alya darkly, sliding into her seat and fixing Adrien with a dark stare that put ice in his veins. “You'd better have offered that boy a yacht Agreste, that was a dick move.”

 

Alya too?!

 

Struck by the sudden and horrible urge to stuff his head into his bag and stay in there forever, it was all he could do to gape up at her like a fish.

 

“He didn't even apologise until I told him to,” muttered Nino into the rim of his cap;  now back on his head and pulled low over his face.

 

Alya’s lip curled and with it Adrien saw the gates of hell about to swing wide open-

 

His hands flew up before his face and he was babbling.

 

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry but I don't know what you're talking about but I'm really sorry I'm sorry!”

 

Nino twitched his head to glare at him.

 

“My facebook is my life man, I  _ know _ it was you.”

 

Adrien's brain set itself alight.

 

“I mean it was funny the first couple of times but I told you to cut it out and then you go and  _ report me _ and now my account is _ suspended _ ?  _ Majorly uncool _ .”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“Adrien, put the shovel down,” Alya peered down at him from behind steepled fingers like God herself. 

 

Facebook? Nino’s facebook?

 

“Your facebook account,” he licked his lips, brow crinkling as he hoped (he  _ prayed _ ) that he was was finally picking up on this. “Is suspended?”

 

Furious silence. Uh oh-

 

“Oh my god dude, seriously?!”

“Wow, just cut it out already! It's-”

 

“I didn't! I'm not! I-I-I-”

 

He wanted to melt. He wanted to run. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, paralysed by fear. Short of this being some kind of joke, it seemed like his friends might not be his friends anymore if this kept up… But how could he possibly stop whatever downward spiral they were on if he had no idea what was going on?! Dear god he was barely equipped to deal with in-class pleasantries, let alone a full-on witch trial- For what, exactly?! What had he done? Something awful evidently, and something social media related but-

 

“A-are you guys… Okay?”

 

Three pairs of eyes snapped to Marinette and she had the presence of mind to step back in alarm.

 

Everyone started talking at once.

 

“Adrien reported Nino as a joke-”

“I didn't-”

“He's still acting like it's  _ funny _ -”

“But I- I didn't! It wasn't me!”

“-and now Nino’s Facebook account has been suspended and Adrien still won't drop the act.”

 

And there it was. At last. Out in the open. The bubble of relief that burst in his chest was to Adrien surely a physical thing.

 

Oh thank god.

 

While Adrien drifted back to earth the others were still bickering.

 

“I mean, a-a you sure it was him?”

“Marinette now is  _ not _ the time for-”

“I'm not it's just-”

“I screenshot the messages because he was being a right asshole and I thought it might- here look-”

 

“Guys?”

 

Trying not to wince at the ferocity of the looks suddenly beamed at him, Adrien fought to keep his expression politely baffled.

 

“I don't have a facebook account.”

 

Nino rolled his eyes into next week while Alya all but shoved a screen up his nose.

 

“What's this then, smartass?”

 

Adrien squinted.

 

What.

 

Adrien frowned.

 

Was that-

 

Adrien seized the phone and stared because what the everliving-

  
“...I have a facebook account?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you verna for the title ilu


	2. Chapter 2

It was him. I mean it wasn't him, obviously, he’d been told ever since he first started asking permission that he wasn't allowed. Too risky, too public. Or something.

 

But there he was: Adrien Agreste, Model for Gabriel. 

 

Adrien’s thumbs hovered over the screen, staring at the photographs of someone else’s orange sneakers, someone else’s picture of a sunset in Capri- That one was shared from the official Gabriel page, him (actually him) smiling alongside some of his father’s associates at that dinner last week… The photographs were bizarre to say the least, but what was truly freaky? The statuses.

 

Someone was saying things (bland, generic things)  _ under his name _ . Pretending to be him. Speaking as him. People were reading this profile (Adrien nearly choked when he saw the obscenely long line of digits that was his friend count) and thinking that it was  _ him _ who had enjoyed olives with the Sultan of Brunei in September. Adrien didn't like olives. And he certainly hadn't agreed to spend a weekend in Brunei to have more olives over a very visible comments thread with the sultan’s youngest son.

 

His most recent post was just  _ this morning _ : a picture of the smallest saddest plate of fruit imaginable along with the caption: “Love to start a school day with a light healthy breakfast! Yummy!”

 

To his knowledge, Adrien had never used the word “yummy” in his entire life.

 

435 likes, and it was only 11am.

 

Had he even had breakfast this morning?

 

“What the  _ fuck.” _

 

He looked up to find his friends staring at him, expressionless. Profanity from a pristine Agreste mouth seemed to have shocked them all into silence. 

 

“What the actual  _ fuck _ ,” he said again. “I'm not allowed to have a facebook account, this is-”

 

“Dude,” said Nino after a brief pause, some of the venom gone from his voice (Adrien noted with enormous relief). “What are you talking about?”

 

Yes! They're listening! Now to explain himself.

 

“This!” Adrien blurted. He waved the phone in the air between them, gesturing wildly for emphasis. “This  _ isn't  _ me! I mean it's  _ me,  _ but it's not  _ mine _ !”

 

His friends were looking down at him as if he'd grown another head and Adrien's stomach sank. Yep. Well. That was probably because he'd just offered the worst explanation of all time. Great job.

 

Painfully slowly, Alya pulled her phone from Adrien's increasingly sweaty palm. She eyed him skeptically over the rim of her glasses for a moment. Then, she dropped her eyes to the screen. 

 

The benches creaked as Nino and Marinette practically threw themselves across the desks to get a peek.

 

And Adrien sat ram-rod straight. Waiting to be judged.

 

“This…”

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin at Marinette’s soft voice: her brow was curved in an elegant arch, a single finger pointed at the phone. 

 

“This is a fake profile?”

 

Adrien nodded so violently that he nearly unhinged his head from his neck.

 

A pause. Then-

 

“Well that explains a lot.”

“Dude! For real? You let me believe that you had the inner monologue of a desperate housewife for  _ how long-” _

_ “ _ Wait so you said that you’re not allowed a facebook profile? How do you  _ live _ ?”

“-looking back the absence of memes was totally suspicious-”

“Regulated sure, but not  _ allowed _ ?! Like, totally  _ not allowed _ ?”

“-oh my god thank Christ man I nearly died when you liked that thing Chloe made about the top ten most attractive Parisians-”

“ _ Not allowed?!” _

 

_ “ _ You really didn't know about this?” asked Marinette. She turned bright pink as the room abruptly quieted, looking down to pick absently at an invisible hem on her sleeve.

 

Adrien tore his eyes away from her cherry-coloured cheeks and leaned back, elbows propping him up against the desk. Had he known that there was a facebook profile out there that the world had universally accepted to be his? A profile that, by the looks of it, was officially endorsed by his father’s company? That was spewing mindless soulless crap into the abyss and thousands of people were lapping it up, making assumptions about his character based on slightly off-angle pictures of kale smoothies? 

 

Holy  _ crap _ .

 

“No, I had no idea.”

 

His classmates looked horrified. Fair enough: so was he.

 

Oh my god. Adrien, in all honestly, felt a little sick to the stomach. That nervous twisty feeling in the gut that was usually reserved for pre-runway panics and “your father would like to speak with you in his office” was back (he curled his fist into the side of his overshirt because  _ calm down it’s not that big a deal there are worse things- _ )

 

-yeah there were but this felt super personal.

 

“Dude.”

 

Nino clapped him on the back and Adrien was thumped back into the present. 

 

“That is  _ extraordinarily  _ fucked up.”

 

Oh, relief, sweet relief. Alya and Marinette made noises of agreement, muttering furiously between themselves about- Oh he didn't care, his friends weren't- Were they still mad at him? Nino didn't seem to be: his friend was no longer sulking at the very opposite end of the bench but had at some point shifted back to his usual position. His friend who-

 

Adrien gasped, turning to Nino with growing understanding.

 

They - whoever they were - had...

 

“They got your account  _ suspended _ ?!”

 

Nino's entire DJing career was based on facebook-

 

But Nino wrinkled his nose, waving his hand dismissively. 

 

“Bro seriously, I'm so not even thinking about that right now.”

“But-”

 

Nino dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and Adrien’s jaw clicked shut.

 

“Adrien,” said Nino solemnly. “Homie, my man, Big A-” somewhere behind them Alya snorted “-Nino’s Rage is now directed at this ass-munching maggotty prick who has dared to make me question my stellar opinion of you.”

 

Snrk.

 

Adrien felt his heart swell in his chest and he wondered for the umpteenth time how he was lucky enough to have such brilliant friends. 

 

“Nino?”

“What.”

“I'll talk to my father and I’ll make sure that we get your account back up, I  _ promise  _ I’ll sort this out-”

“Yeah yeah yeah don't go all gushy on me man, I’ve seen Alya’s browser history and let me tell you she'd love nothing more than to witness a big ol’ man on man kiss-and-make-up session-”

 

A textbook collided with the side of Nino’s head and Marinette burst out laughing.

 

“ _ Nino!” _

_ “ _ Sorry babe, but I hear no argument-”

Smack went the book.

“I can't believe you told him,” gasped Marinette between giggles, clutching Alya’s shoulder for support. By the look of unbridled fury contorting Alya’s rapidly purpling face, Adrien was pretty confident that she hadn't.

 

“I’m going to cut you into  _ teeny tiny little pieces- _ ”

“Oh!” Nino swooned, draping himself over Adrien’s shoulders. “Oh help! Defend me Adrie- my, what big strong shoulders you have! If only I had a  _ shoulder fetish _ made excruciatingly clear by my suggested searches-”

 

Nino’s shit-eating grin was wiped away by perplexion so quickly that Adrien’s eyes snapped immediately to Alya’s curiously blank face.

 

“What?”

“I don't have a shoulder fetish,” she said slowly. Alya frowned. 

 

“Oh,” said Nino stupidly, peeling himself off of Adrien. 

 

“What made you think that-” 

 

Alya’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.

 

And abruptly swivelled to the suddenly very quiet girl sitting beside her.

 

…

 

“...Marinette, whose shoulders have you been googling on my ph-”

 

Marinette was out of her seat faster than a greased bullet and Alya was right behind her.

 

“OH MY GOD MARINETTE YOU HAVE A  _ WHAT?! _ ”

“A NOTHING I HAVE NOTHING I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT-”

“Marinette!” Nino yelled. Somewhere between the stairs and the door Alya had tackled a too-slow Marinette and was wrestling her back to their seats. “Marinette, my man, you're in for a treat!” 

 

Then Nino had an iron grip on his upper arm and Adrien had a feeling he, the spectator to this circus, was about to be dragged into the centre of the ring. Again.

As Alya steered a helpless Marinette (frozen in terror, if her expression was anything to go by) straight towards them, Nino waved his hand in Adrien’s peripheral.

 

“Behold,” declared his friend. “A spectacular specimen prime for groping! Come and cop a feel! You, miss! How about a ride on the S.H.Oulder, our newest shiniest blond flagship?”

 

Marinette made a noise that was akin to what Adrien imagined a bird being stepped on would sound like.

 

A- hang on.

 

Hang on. Shiniest blond flagship. Blond? Nino was talking about  _ him. _

 

Oh.

 

Being quite suddenly (inexplicably?) hot under the collar at the prospect of being felt up by their class president was certainly not what motivated Adrien to act. No sir. Adrien did what he told himself was the only polite thing to do on an obviously distressed Marinette’s behalf: change the subject.

 

“Alya, your phone buzzed!”

 

It had the same effect as pressing a pause button.

 

Keeping the stock-still Marinette tucked into her side with one arm, Alya fished about in her pocket with the other.

 

It was with a significant amount of surprise and subsequent smugness that Adrien realized her phone  _ had _ buzzed. Score for mad psychic powers Agreste. Nice one.

 

He jumped violently when Alya suddenly squealed at a very uncomfortable decibel.

 

“Jesus Christ woman, what was that for?” Nino released Adrien's arm in favour of rubbing at his ears. Adrien wondered if there was a discrete way he could do the same. “Cats on the street are going wild!”

 

“Ladybug just liked my comment!”

Alya shrieked in delight, hopping up and down on the spot and bouncing Marinette with her.

 

“No she didn't,” blurted Marinette.

 

“See for yourself!” 

 

The boys lunged forward when Alya flipped the phone to face them.

 

Ladybug liked this.

 

Clear as day.

 

Adrien really really  _ really _ had to get his father to let him on facebook, for real, as in desperately desperately needed to-

 

“There's no  _ way _ that's really her,” said Marinette in an oddly strained voice. Which could probably be attributed to the fact that she was still being crushed into Alya’s ribs.

 

Right. Yeah, probably not. Adrien tried not to visibly deflate. Of course Ladybug, so careful about her identity, wouldn't be brash enough to-

 

“Oh girl please,” Alya scoffed, releasing her grip on Marinette to place her hand on her hip. “Who do you take me for? Like I’d fall for a _fake_ _profile-”_

_ “ _ Like Adrien’s-”

“Shut it Nino: no, she’s the real deal.”

 

Adrien's heart jumped straight up his throat and out of his mouth.

“Really?! How do you know?”

 

Alya tossed her hair over her shoulder.

 

“Call it intuition, good reporting skills, whatever you like. There’s some pretty compelling evidence: parkour photos, celebrity pics, you name it. Plus she’s got heaps of endorsement from various notable figures, just look at her friends list.”

 

Beside him, Nino grinned devilishly. 

 

“Look dude,” he snickered. “Apparently you’re friends with her.”

 

A strangled sound bubbled from somewhere deep in his chest and  _ oh my god _ Adrien didn’t know if he was jealous of whomever was in charge of the Adrien Agreste profile or delighted that  _ Ladybug _ had accepted a fake him’s friend request- Dear god. Maybe they talked. Maybe fake him and Ladybug had a message thread. Maybe they- Jesus no but fake him was a bore what if Ladybug didn’t like fake him. And then since no one seemed to know it was the fake him, what if she thought the fake him was the real him and then if they ever met she’d think that he recommended detoxing before a long flight to Los Angeles with a spinach-water diet-

 

He could never let her know that he was Chat Noir. Ever.

 

Or-

 

The fake profile had to go.


	3. Chapter 3

_“_ I think that went… Rather well!”

 

Plagg, for lack of a better word, was a _god_. A god with the most devastating powers of destruction in the known universe, capable of reducing entire planetary systems to dust within seconds at a whim.

 

He was also an-

 

“Asshole.”

 

Plagg snickered, looping lazily through air like an enormous blow-fly.

 

“I’m sure when he said ‘ _completely out of the question_ ’ he really meant ‘sure son, maybe when you’re 45!’”

“Uh huh.”

“And it could've been worse!”

“Uh huh.”

“So much worse!”

“Uh huh.”

“At least you weren’t sold to the Libyan salt mines!”

“Uh h- What?”

“Ask me later,” drawled the kwami, circling a slow descent onto to bed. “Maybe when you’re 45.”

 

Groaning, Adrien flopped face-first onto his mattress, feet flipping up into the air behind him.

 

What had he been expecting, really. Honestly. Like walking into his father’s study and asking him straight out about the mysterious fake Adrien profile had been an utter stroke of genius? Mentioning Nino and his suspended account was _inspired_ : because his father and Nino got on famously, right. And lest we forget, the cherry on top, the crowning pinnacle of Adrien’s foolproof plan: demanding (jesus christ, _demanding_ ) that he be allowed to manage his own social media presence.

 

It had been an emotional kinda day, and he would be the first to admit that he could've come up with a better plan of attack than passionate monologuing.

 

“You know…”

 

Adrien prepared himself to hear something extraordinarily unhelpful.

 

“Your approach was way too _feelsy_ . That man ain’t gonna cave to anything for teenage hysterics.”

 

Boom.

 

But the little fleabag was still talking - Adrien couldn’t see him thank god, face down into the duvet as he was, scowling a hole through it probably…

 

“...you really shouldn’t get so worked up about stuff, kid. Take it easy, y’know? It’s not _that_ important, it’s just what, another way to talk with your friends? You see them at school anyway-”

 

“Plagg?” he grit out. “You are over six thousand years old. During that time, didn’t anyone bother to teach you _tact_?”

“Many have tried.”

 

Oh, he bet. Adrien tilted his head just enough so that he could fix one narrowed eye on the black smudge stretching languidly across his pillow. Stupid unsupportive emotionally-constipated kwami. He reached out a long, single finger.

 

And dropped it right in the middle of Plagg’s forehead: boop.

 

Plagg’s head immediately rolled back and Adrien’s well-trained finger began to scratch at the back of the ear with which he was presented. Oh well. A jerk he may be, but Plagg was still here. Here and cute. And _such_ a jerk. Spoiling him probably didn't help his frankly dreadful personality. Worst parenting award goes to Adrien Agreste.

 

Loud and most certainly smug purring filled the air as Adrien rolled onto his side with a heavy sigh, absently rubbing away at that magical spot behind Plagg’s ear.

 

“It's not even about me,” he said aloud. Well it was, actually, partially, but still. “Nino’s been dragged into this now and I have to fix this - I gotta get that account back up. It's not fair on him.”

 

“S’not your fault.”

Adrien frowned.

“Yes it is!”

“Nahhhh, outta your control kid, it's not your problem.”

 

Adrien lifted his finger and the purring spluttered to a stop.

 

Plagg opened a sliver of acid green eye to _glare_.

 

“Fine,” scowled the kwami. “It's all your fault and you're a terrible friend for allowing your father’s employees to inadvertently ruin your friend’s career even though you couldn't possibly have had any idea what was going on.”

 

…

 

Adrien lowered his hand and the purring resumed.

 

“Thanks Plagg,” he said dryly.

“Pleasure to assist.”

 

Wait.

 

Tiny paws tugged at his once again stationary fingers.

 

“Oh come _on_ -”

“What did you say?”

“I _said_ it's all your fault now can we get back to _scratches_ already?!”

“No _after_ that-”

 

Assist. Assist _ant_.

 

_Oh!_

 

“I’ve got an idea.”

“I really couldn't give a-”

Plagg squeaked as the recoil of Adrien bouncing off the bed sent the kwami flying.

 

\---

 

He couldn't believe she fell for that.

 

“I can't believe she fell for that,” whistled Plagg. “I thought you had an onsite dry cleaning press?”

 

“We do,” hissed Adrien, fingers flying over the keyboard as he craned his neck over his shoulder.

 

C’mon, c’mon-

Ha!

Password spam is an epidemic: it had taken him one try. Boy. He wondered if the passwords for the company accounts really were all the same. Now there’s a thought-

 

“Bit dark for you, kid,” said Plagg, dropping down to hover above the monitor on Nathalie’s desk. “But I definitely approve.”

 

Adrien grimaced. As the guilt wasn't eating him up inside already; endorsement from Plagg was like being handed a Nobel Prize for Terrible Ideas.

 

“You're supposed to be watching the door.”

 

The kwami made a very rude noise, and stayed put.

 

Joy.

 

Okay, anyway. He was in. Now what.

How about… Well it was a total long shot, but what if Nathalie was in charge of his profile? It made a bit of sense, since she arguably knew him the best out of everyone his father employed (was it naïve to consider that as a possible factor? He didn't know), except for maybe The Gorilla. Adrien snorted at the idea of his enormous bodyguard sending out FarmVille requests.

 

Opening the browser, his heart sank when facebook.com didn't even show up in her suggested searches. Ugh. That's not a good sign. He closed the window with a sulky tap.

 

Now what.

 

A gentle pressure as something landed on the joint of his neck.

 

“...d’you think she's got an employee directory or something.”

 

Adrien's eyes slid shut. The visual of a devil on his shoulder was not lost on him - he nearly laughed at the toonish quality of the scenario. Shouldn't there be an angel on the other one? He nearly checked.

 

 _Massive infringement of employee privacy,_ supplied his conscience. _Big big trouble._

 

His dropped his eyes to his shoulder, meeting Plagg’s: green on green.

 

The kwami blinked.

 

Whewwww okay okay okay. Quick decision is a good decision. Nino’s happiness, or being able to sleep at night? Nino’s happiness, or- Or-

 

He didn't know why Ladybug flashed into his mind at that moment, but she normally inspired taking the moral high ground.

 

Adrien exhaled heavily and opened up a file search. Not this time.

 

Muffled giggling beside him only increased his uneasiness.

 

“ _Please_ can you watch the door, I could get in serious trouble if anyone catches me doing this-”

“Oh I know, I know! That's why it's so exciting!”

“Why,” muttered Adrien flatly. “You want to see me skinned alive?”

“Don't be so dramatic - this is one of the most interesting things you've ever done, Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes: hacking into the database of a multi-million euro company?! Exciting!”

“It's _not_ hacking-”

 

Plagg sneered in his peripheral as a window briefly popped up on the screen (attention: password restricted content), before it quickly vanished with a few well-placed keystrokes.

 

“...hacker.”

“I'm _not_ -”

 

Both pairs of eyes snapped back to the screen as it filled with ribbons of staff headshots, departmental folders, and…

 

_Departmental Directory_

 

Bingo. Click!

 

Scroll, scroll, scroll… Q, R, S… Sales and Marketing, Secretarial Departments- Social Media Mangement. Gotcha!

 

It was a surprisingly small department: only about 8 people by the looks of it.

 

“Whose home do we break into first,” came a deadly hiss in his ear.

“Oh my g- Plagg! No one’s! We aren’t- No! Why would you think-”

“Well, you’ve crossed sides now. Who knows what criminal activities you’ll embark upon next. It’s a slippery slope, my friend. Hacking today, world domination tomorrow-”

“It’s- No, I’m ignoring you.”

“Chat Noir lost to the powers of evil, your Ladybug will be _so_ disappointed…”

 

Adrien vehemently ignored the heat he could feel building up behind his cheeks at the phrasing ( _his_ Ladybug) and willed himself to focus on the task before him. Focus!

 

“So what _are_ you gonna do?” Plagg’s voice had reverted back to its distinct bored quality.

 

Adrien opened Nathalie’s mail program.

 

“Ooo, identity fraud!”

 

Ugh.

 

To: Social Media Department (all)

Subject:

 

Uh…

 

Subject: Adrien Agreste Facebook profile

 

Was that vague enough? Sure.

 

_Dear all,_

 

...no that wasn't right.

 

 _All:_ (perfect)

 

_It has been brought to my attention that a young man’s facebook account has recently been reported by whomsoever is in charge of Mr. Agreste’s facebook account._

_The young man is in fact a dear friend of Mr. Agreste, hence this is a_ gross _error-_

 

 _“_ A gross error that reflects poorly upon your department’s mandate to uphold a believable online presence for Mr. Agreste,” suggested Plagg.

 

...

 

...damn.

 

 _-a_ gross _error that reflects poorly upon your department’s mandate to uphold a believable online presence for Mr. Agreste._

_Rectify this mistake as soon as possible-_

 

Or, actually:

 

_Rectify this mistake immediately._

 

_N. Sancouer_

 

…

 

“Savage,” cackled Plagg. “Send it.”

 

But Adrien’s finger seemed to seize up mid-click.

 

Maybe… Maybe this was the wrong way about it. What if someone replied? I mean someone would obviously reply to an email like this no one would be daft enough to ignore a message from Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant… Then he’d be _finished_ …  Boy he really didn't think this through- And what about the people in the social media department? Adrien had a brief flash into the future: panicky underpaid employees running around like headless chickens. Could he do that to them?

 

Could he go back to Nino though, could he go back and tell him that he was going to have to retract his promise to get his account back up (all his contacts, gigs…) because of a bunch of people he’d never met might get a bit stressed? Because he was scared he'd get in trouble?

 

What would Ladybug do?

 

Now there was a question. His Lady wasn't perfect (but she _was_ ), and he knew that on more than one occasion she’d revealed that she possessed a bit of a mean streak. But it seemed to be based on some deep-seated righteousness, and Ladybug always made amends when she knew that she was in the wrong (he was so proud of her).

 

But she had to make the mistake first.

 

Somewhere a door slammed; somewhere familiar and ominous heels struck the marble floor like physical blows to Adrien’s gut.

 

Oh _shit._

 

“Oh shit,” squeaked Plagg. “Amscray, amscray!”

 

Send. Delete. Send. Delete. _Send_ ? _Delete_?!

 

A text alert, very very close-

 

Adrien slapped his hand down upon the unsuspecting mouse just as Plagg shot into his pocket with enough force to yank the overshirt halfway off his shoulder. The office’s doorknob twisted soundlessly as Adrien lurched away from the desk-

 

Nathalie entered the room with scowl on her face, jabbing furiously at the screen of the tablet in her hand. It took her a full five seconds to notice the totally nonchalant teenage boy leaning against the windowsill.

 

“Adrien?”

 

“Oh, h-hi Nathalie! How are you?”

 

If she’d noticed that his voice had just jumped six octaves she didn’t say anything. A single perfectly-plucked eyebrow crept up her forehead.

 

“Fine thank you,” said Nathalie, painfully slowly, carefully pocketing her phone. Her eyes seemed stuck to his as Adrien slowly oozed along the wall towards the door. “The dry-cleaners said that they never received an order… From… What are you doing in-”

 

“A-about the dry-cleaners! Yes! The cleaners! The dry! Yes! You know, I, ah, it’s funny, y’know?”

 

His fingers fumbled for the doorknob that he knew had to be here somewhere- There!

 

“I’mreallysorryImadeyougotallthatwaybutyouwerehalfwaytherewhenIrememberedthatIhadn’tactuallysentanythingoffthatwaslastweekbutthanksanywaysorrytocauseyoutroublenoI’vegottagosobye!”

 

\---

 

 _Slam_.

 

Adrien had no recollection of the run to his room: he didn’t think he’d ever moved so quickly in his whole goddamn life.

 

Close.

Too close.

 

Wheezing, he sagged against his door, sliding to the floor and pawing at his chest in an absent move to stop his heart from beating its way out through his ribcage.

 

Damn it.

 

Damn his reflexes, damn his instincts, damny-damn-damn-damnity-damn- _damn it_. He’d fucked up everything so completely-

 

Plagg wriggled out from between his fingers, dangling in the air before him like some misshapen Christmas ornament.

 

“Oi, kid.”

 

Adrien looked up: the distress on his face must’ve been quite something for the little black kwami to be looking at him like _that_.

 

“It’s not that bad, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

 

Oh.

 

His head dropped to his chest of his own volition. The email.

 

“That Nino kid seems pretty cool, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

 

Adrien groaned.

 

“And if he doesn’t, well, we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it, but the point I’m trying to make is-”

“Plagg-”

“-that while you took the boring approach - can you not interrupt me when I’m trying to give a motivational speech - that while you took the… The…”

 

Wide and luminous green orbs appeared in the corner of his vision and Adrien squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace, because he really really _really_ didn’t want to watch the dawning of understanding light up that face.

 

…

 

“Hang on…”

 

Here it comes.

 

“You…”

 

Oh boy.

 

“Holy _crap_ , you...”

 

Adrien winced and the little god spun like a top, howling with laughter.

 

“You actually sent it! Ha! You sent it!”

 

Boy, was he in so much trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

At around quarter to midnight, the last light on the top floor of the enormous (and oh so modern, so stylish!) building standing in the heart of the business district went out.

 

A few minutes later, the revolving door at the base of the building let out a straggler of the janitorial staff: a lady in her late fifties, wearily winding her scarf around her neck and fumbling around in her pockets for a metro card. Jingle- _ clink _ : she dropped her keys. The night guard glanced over the top of his feet (crossed atop the desk); uninterested eyes went straight back to the betting website open on the tablet in his lap. His team were playing abroad tonight, hence he was able to watch them in real time while on his shift. Getting  _ paid _ to watch football! He hoped they’d actually win this time - not only for the money he’d placed on them, but if he had to put up with his colleague’s smug face again he’d- Goal!

 

Lost in in the throes of a victory jig, the guard failed to notice the black blur flit across the screen of the security monitor.

 

\---

 

Out of all the shitty ideas Adrien had ever had (even with the exponential spike of them he’d had within the last few hours), this one had to have been the absolute worst.

 

Chat Noir slithered through the dark corridors of the 14th floor, ears swiveling like satellite dishes atop his head for the slightest whir of a security camera; a beep of an alarm system. His eyes remained glued to the screen on the baton in his hand. There was little point in wondering how or why his miraculous instrument had detailed plans of Gabriel's head offices - the perks of kwami magic were best not questioned. Without it, he’d’ve been lost long ago: trapped forever in a sleek designer maze of brushed chrome and glass panels. 

 

-

 

“What’ll you do once you're in there?” Plagg had asked him, disturbingly unquestioning of Adrien’s plan to break into a high-security building in the dead of night.

Adrien took a deep breath, forcing his scattered thoughts in a line and counting them off on his fingers.

 

“First, once we’re in the building-”

“Once  _ you _ are in the building you mean-”

“Once  _ Chat Noir _ hence both of us are in the building-”

“Oh  _ great _ -”

“We find the social media management office.”

 

-

 

Chat’s eyes flicked from the overlapping tracking dots on the screen to the elegant plaque on the door to his left: Social Media Management. Well, that was the easy part done. 

 

-

 

“Secondly, I'll erase the email.”

“On all the computers.”

“Yep.”

“Wouldn't each one have a different password…”

“That's where  _ you  _ come in.”

 

-

 

Kwami magic, kwami magic: what had he done before kwami magic! A USB jack was a new (and he suspected temporary) feature on the baton, as was the extraordinarily helpful widget that seemed to have the sole function of bypassing passwords. Trying not to exude too much glee (he wasn't supposed to be  _ enjoying  _ this, sober up!), Chat Noir plugged the baton into the next computer and hunched over the monitor. His claws clacked quietly against the keys as he, once again, found what he was looking for:

 

_ Unread: Adrien Agreste Facebook profile, N. Sancouer _ .

 

_ Delete this message? _

 

Yep.

 

_ Are you sure? _

 

“You're damn right I'm sure,” he muttered under his breath.

 

_ Message deleted _ .

 

-

 

“And then we go home and I hold this above your head forever to your eternal shame?”

“...not quite.”

 

-

 

The last computer stood at the very end of the horseshoe arrangement of desks. The air had the feel of a Mexican standoff to it: Chat Noir waggled his fingers menacingly. He'd checked each machine for evidence of his elusive Facebook profile, to no avail. That left but one.

 

Don’t worry Nino, you'll be back online in no time.

 

-

 

“So you're going to send a message to the admins to see if they'll let Nemo-”

“Nino.”

“-whatever, off the hook?”

“That's the plan.”

 

On the mattress between them, Adrien's phone pinged. A notification from the Ladyblog.

 

“Hang on,” murmured Adrien. As he took the phone Plagg scoffed disapprovingly - Adrien fought the urge to roll his eyes. So breaking and entering was fine, but following blog updates was despicable.

 

_ Exciting news, Ladybloggers! Ladybug and yours truly have been speaking over social media - she's agreed to an exclusive online interview! More to follow, keep you posted! Alya _

 

Adrien smiled bitterly and didn't even bother to attempt to squash the ugly rush of jealousy that twisted in his belly when his phone pinged again (Alya in the group chat: “oH MY GODD LADYBUG ADDED ME AS HER FRIEND ON FB IM SCREAMINGg”). 

 

Incredible. It was as if the universe was pushing all of his buttons to rouse him into action. He really hoped that'd be seen as a reasonable cause in a court of law.

 

-

 

He was done. He'd done what he'd meant to do. He should make like a tree and leave. Immediately.

 

But Chat Noir lingered.

 

His lip curled in faint disgust as he absently scrolled through “his” profile, hungrily eyeing the little edit (delete?) buttons that would only be available here, now. Smoothies, sucking up to celebrities, shared posts from fitness magazines and charities… God, what a load of dribble. It was like watching a zit being popped: horrifying, but also fascinating somehow.

 

A notification drew his attention to the top of the screen and his innards abruptly flipped. Notifications. From his “ _ friends”.  _ He remembered Nino’s words with a jolt: was Ladybug really friends with… With fake him?

 

His breathing quickened as he slowly (carefully) moved the mouse so that the cursor hovered over the chat bar. Click. Enlarged: the little green dot next to Ladybug’s name sent his heart into overdrive - they spoke?! How often? What about? Who-

 

Wait.

 

Chat blinked.

 

There was a name under Ladybug’s in the online friends list that had no business being there.

 

A name that also had a little green dot next to it. But that was impossible.

 

“What the-”

 

In that quiet understated font: Chat Noir.

 

Chat Noir?!

 

Oh  _ Jesus Chr- _

 

A walkie-talkie blipped right outside the door and his heart stopped altogether.

 

-

 

“You know,” said Plagg after a long extended silence. They were watching the sun go down through the enormous panel windows in Adrien’s bedroom. It was… Kind of nice. 

 

“I wonder what Ladybug would think about all this.”

Adrien winced.

“No,” the little god continued, seeming attuned to his reaction. “I mean your Ladybug is rash too sometimes. She doesn't always do the smart thing either.”

 

Where was he going with this.

 

“Did it ever occur to you to ask for help?”

“Ladybug doesn't  _ know who I- _ ”

“No  _ dumbass _ ,” Plagg made a show of rolling his eyes. “I wasn't  _ suggesting  _ that you bring her along for the ride or actually tell her any of the details, I just meant talk it out.”

 

Adrien blinked.

 

“Like- Okay, so think of it like this. Your Ladybug has made some pretty stupid decisions in the past, right.”

“Hey, that's-”

“Yes she has. And so have you.”

Adrien opened his mouth to retaliate (don't talk about her like-), but the kwami continued. 

“Stupid decisions that you've made  _ alone _ in the heat of the moment without bothering to seek a rational opinion. You two still haven't figured out yet that you're a _ team _ ; with or without your suits, whether talking about battle strategies or grocery shopping, you will always come up with better ideas if you work together. Not that you're useless on your own- Well Ladybug isn't you're a debatable case-”

“But-”

“I said you don't have to tell her everything, I’m just saying that talking it out, even ultra super vaguely with the bug, would probably go a long way.”

 

-

 

The air in the ventilation system of the building was about eighty-percent lint (the  _ ventilation system _ \- exactly how many movies had he seen). It was dark, it was really  _ really _ hot, and the growth spurt that he vaguely recalled someone mentioning at his last shoot was all of a sudden extremely apparent because his shoulders kept sticking to the metal like he was cork in the neck of a bottle.

 

God he hoped the rubber-like fabric of his suit wouldn't squeak.

 

“I’m telling you,” the muffled voice of the guard drifted up through the vents; Chat could see the beams of a flashlight spiking between the gaps. “I'm telling you it's nothing, they just left their computers on this happens  _ all the time _ -”

 

Another crackle and a staticky voice joined the conversation.

 

“Yeah,” fizzled the voice. “But they just all suddenly switched on at once, it was weird-”

“If you're so bothered,” droned the guard. “You could've come up here yourself - it's on  _ your  _ side of the building! I was in the middle of watching the game… And they're all off anyway, this- hang on a second.”

 

Chat’s breath stuck in his throat.

 

“Hey!”

 

Crap crap crap dead dead dead he was dead-

 

“It's the Agreste kid’s facebook!”

“What?”

“It's just open on the desktop!”

“Why would it be- Hell, it's a fake?”

“I knew it.”

“Go figure.”

“Bro you have to see this look at his friends list-”

 

Meanwhile, a meter or so above, Chat Noir had melted. Safe. God. Jesus he thought- Ohhhhh thank god.

 

Safe safe safe-

 

A chair below him squeaked.

 

“Man I am taking advantage of this.”

“You're gonna get in trouble!”

“I'm not going to  _ post  _ anything, just read a bit.”

“....tell me if you hit something interesting.”

“All these  _ models _ man!”

“Holy crap who-”

 

Oh no. Oh noooo, no no no: the guard was settling in. 

The longer Chat Noir stayed here, he knew, the higher his chance of being discovered. One sniffle, one cough (god it was so dusty in here) and he was finished. Kaput. The end. 

 

He had to get out. Now.

 

But he couldn't move. 

 

He wished for the umpteenth time that he had Lucky Charm for a power instead of Plagg’s-

 

Huh.

 

The most wonderful idea came to him.

 

Being oh so careful not to let his claws touch the metal lest he be betrayed by a sound, Chat Noir moved his hands together; his fingers slowly, slowly curled around his ring and-

 

Pulled.

  
  


Adrien blinked furiously, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness and focus on the two luminous balls of chartreuse fury floating in front of his nose.

 

He raised his finger to his lips and pointed down: he saw the green orbs narrow to slits and drop. They flickered back up to him and  _ rolled _ , before a flick of a tiny tail against his cheek and total darkness once again signified Plagg’s departure.

 

Now to wait.

 

The heartbeat pounding in Adrien’s ears ebbed; the guards’ conversation slowly came back into focus.

 

“-I’m just saying, it's the only thing that made sense.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah, their parents are totally pushing for it, so obvious.”

“Huh, I guess you're right.”

“Yeah, oh man let me tell you - I did loads of day shifts last month and that girl was in here  _ all _ the time. Rude as hell though, but it’s probably, like, arranged.”

“Are arranged marriages even legal here.”

“No idea, but her dad’s the mayor right. I bet Gabriel Agreste’s sold his son off to Mayor Bourgeois’ kid for like tax reasons and shit.”

 

It took every fibre of Adrien’s being not to  _ gag. _

 

“Okay, this is boring I'm coming back down.”

 

_ Finally. _

 

The chair squeaked again as it was vacated; heavy footfalls reached the door, and-

 

Adrien’s back pocket buzzed. Loudly.

 

Oh,  _ fuck. _

 

He arched his spine, desperately trying to peel himself from the horrifyingly acoustic metal at his back-

 

_ Buzz buzz buzz _ .

 

The flashlight beams were back and Adrien clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his breathing.

 

“There’s… Something in the vents!”

 

Fuck fuck  _ fuck-  _ Adrien’s eyes popped in their sockets, pupils shrinking to the size of pinheads as the light grew stronger and the footfalls louder and above it all the blood roared in his ears-

 

BANG.

 

He very nearly shat himself. Judging by the loud expletive from below him the guard felt the same way.

 

CRASH.

 

Somewhere down the hall, something was making an awful racket. Something that sounded exactly like a stapler being dropped on a printer from a great height but Adrien wasn’t to know that until later.

 

The light wavered for an instant longer before it abruptly vanished: boots scraped against carpet and the door of the room slammed shut, the sound of running eventually fading into the distance.

 

Silence.

 

Then-

 

“You owe me  _ so _ much chee-”

 

Plagg squawked as he was abruptly squashed between two sweaty palms and pressed against a firm pair of lips.

 

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou _ thankyou- _ ”

“Geddoff!”

 

-

 

Twenty minutes later, Chat Noir crouched atop a building in a very different part of town, frowning down at the baton in his hand.

 

On the screen was the Ladyblog. Well, the loading screen of the Ladyblog. Which was unusual because miraculous instruments weren’t typically hindered by things such as limited signal. Must be a lot of traffic on the blog tonight.

 

Following his very narrow escape, Adrien had managed to wrangle his phone from his pocket to check what’d nearly been the end of him, and it’d been a blog notification. Plagg was going to be so smug about that. He’d then transformed and ran as fast as he could as far as he could (he never wanted to see those offices again so long as he lived), which had led him here: the top of an old apartment block two streets behind Champs-Élysée.

 

Watching a ladybug spin round and round and round on a screen.

 

With a huff, Chat Noir dropped on his rear, swinging his legs out over the gutter. It was cool out, and the city was mostly hues of blues and blacks, save for the long yellow stripe of light behind him that was Champ de Élysée. It was quiet too, as was to be expected on a weeknight. 

He had half a mind to detransform to better feel the breeze that ruffled his hair.

 

A nice night.

 

It wasn't long before his mind, as it often did, wandered to the topic of Ladybug.

 

He thought back to Plagg's lecture. If she were here… Would she think him stupid? Would she have yelled at him for abusing his powers? Chat Noir twisted his claws in his lap. She was his dearest friend and as such Plagg was right: it would be such a weight off his chest to talk about his misadventures with someone who would listen. But… But he was ashamed. He was pretty sure that, were there a superhero rule book or something, he'd be cited with gross misconduct.

 

Chat decided then and there that really, Ladybug didn't need to know about tonight.

 

Although, he really ought to tell her about the Chat Noir profile, that it was a fake. She probably knew already of course, being who she was and all, but just to reiterate, in case the fake was bothering her? But as for the rest of his evening? Nope.

 

Besides, in hindsight, he'd been over-dramatic. I mean sure: someone else running your very visible facebook profile without you knowing about it was a massive infringement of privacy and would probably give Adrien lingering paranoia for years, but that sort of being ripped open to the public was something he should be  _ used to, _ that was the life of the face of a major fashion house. And he'd gone  _ way _ above the call of duty in terms of bringing his friend’s profile back online. 

 

That's right, Chat told himself firmly. You did good. Now you can go home, text Nino, forget about this  _ entire  _ thing, and go to b-

 

Oh, looks like the Ladyblog finally decided to load. And-

 

And what… What-

 

What was that… Headline… Wh…

 

An enormous blown-up screenshot of what appeared to be a photograph: his and His Lady’s joined hands (but his cuff didn't have that trim so whose-), and a caption underneath it?

 

_ Chat Noir is In A Relationship with Ladybug. _

 

He had half a second to let those words sink in before a red and black polka-dotted foot slammed into the side of his head.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh noooo! thanks to everyone for your comments and patience: both keep me alive  
> as does verna. beta. who is a gift.


	5. Chapter 5

Chat Noir had seen Ladybug upset.

 

This was not that. Ladybug wasn't upset.

 

Ladybug was _livid._

 

“Hold still,” she screeched. Chat ducked, the yoyo that smashed clean through the brickwork missing him by a hair. “I'm trying to _beat you to death_!”

 

Chat Noir managed to swallow his sarcasm (“not much of an incentive”). He valued his life.

 

Speaking of which, he'd better try to reason with her before he was flat out murdered _._

 

 _“_ Ladyb-”

 

The yoyo whizzed past his ear and Chat choked on a yelp. He'd better try to reason with her _quickly_.

 

“Ladybug, I know this looks bad but-”

 

He was cut off by hysterical laughter, which probably wasn't a good sign.

 

“Oh: it looks bad, does it?” Ladybug shrieked. “Not nearly as bad as you’re gonna look scattered all over Paris, _lover_ -” she gave up on trying to hit him with the yoyo in favour of trying to hit him with her fists “-I'm gonna stick your various body parts on spikes out the front of every major tourist attraction in town-” swipe “-one leg for the Musée d’Orsay-” swipe “-another one for Notre Dame-” swipe “-and I’m feeling generous both your arms can go to the Louvre-” double swipe “-your body can hang in little chopped up bits from the chandelier in the opera house-” swipe (yikes that one was _really_ close) “-and right on the tippy top of the Eiffel Tower-” swipe “-I’m gonna mount your big stupid head! And when they update the Wikipedia page for all those places there’s gonna be a whole new section in each-” swipe “-detailing how much of a slimy-” kick “-back-stabbing-” swipe again “- _lying_ -” double swipe “-creepy little asshole you-”

 

“Please!” It was selfish to think, he scolded himself instantly, but to say her reaction to the idea of them being together was a bit disheartening would've been an enormous understatement. Was it selfish? Adrien was having rather a rough day: having love of his life spitting insults at him was just the cherry on top of this clusterfuck sundae. He was allowed to be selfish for a second.

And it's about the means, a hopeful little voice insisted. She's upset about how it came about. Fair enough - he'd probably feel the same if someone else pulled a stunt like that on him. Maybe not if it were _Ladybug_ -

He parried a blow that made the bones in his forearm buzz; holy shit she was actually trying to kill him. “Just- Just let me explain, _please_ -”

 

“No! You don't get to explain- Explain- Oh _god_ just how are we supposed to explain this to _reporters_ -”

“Can you please stop trying to hit me for one-”

“I can't believe you actually thought-”

“Just-”

 

A hand lashed out with the speed and surprise factor of a lightning bolt, seizing him by the bell of his suit. His voice cut off in a hoarse squeak. Oh fuck.

 

...and then she'd released him to throw her hands in the air. When Chat’s soul returned to his body she was pacing, arms flying like ribbons in the wind with the speed and drama of her gestures.

 

“-so _humiliating_ and _embarrassing_ and to think for a split second I was starting to think you might actually- I might- AUGH! I thought we were a team! A good team! Good teams mean trust! And you've gone and-”

 

She swelled like a balloon, her head suddenly snapping towards him again: her glare _burned_.

 

“My mistake,” she hissed. Ladybug reached for her yoyo and turned on her heel- Hang on, she was leaving? No no no, he couldn't let her go, not without clearing this up-

 

“Ladybug, wait!”

 

He hadn't realized he'd reached out to her until she'd slapped his hand off her shoulder and whirled to face him.

 

“How _could_ you?”

 

It was her tone - suddenly different; so absolutely heart-wrenchingly _betrayed_ and almost watery - it was her tone of voice that grabbed him, that froze him solid.

He'd done that, he'd made her sound like that. Whether it was the real or the fake it didn't matter: Chat Noir had reduced his lady to the verge of tears. It was like her words were Cataclysm and they'd seized him by the esophagus; he could feel himself rusting from the inside out.

God.

 

A split second’s hesitation was more than enough for Ladybug: her fist collided with his jaw hard enough to send him curving through the air and sprawling into the gravel.

 

 _Ow_.

 

Fuck me, what a throw: he'd be seeing stars for a week.

 

Chat’s eyes wobbled back into focus. Ladybug stood rooted to the spot, her fist dangling awkwardly in the air, staring down at him with poorly-concealed horror.

 

Then she blurted, “Why didn't you move?!”

 

“Sorry,” gurgled Chat.

 

Ladybug was suddenly everywhere at once: crouching next to him, grabbing his shoulders, tugging on his arm, tilting his chin to the side with her fingers (ow ow ow ow ow).

 

“-weren't actually supposed to _take the hit_ you dumb cat, otherwise I wouldn't have- Obviously not- And now-”

 

It dimly occurred to Chat Noir that he might not get a better chance.

 

Her words shut off like a faucet when he gripped her forearm (he felt her go rigid and his heart deflated in his chest - he had to fix this).

 

“It's fake.”

“What.” Ladybug’s voice was flat as a tack and Chat’s fingers tightened about her arm. _Please_ listen.

 

“The profile,” his voice was still wheezy from having his back slammed against the roof. “It's a fake.”

 

A sharp intake of breath.

 

“It's not real Ladybug I _swear_ , I would _never_ -”

“I know!”

“- _ever_ do something like- Wait, what?”

 

Ladybug sat back on her haunches.

 

“ _Obviously_ it's a fake, dumbass!”

 

Wh- Okay now he was _completely_ lost.

And Ladybug was still talking.

 

“-we spend more time together than I do with my _parents_ at this point how could you _not know_ that it’s not me? Jesus Christ Chat, what was going through your head-”

 

And then it hit him.

 

She wasn’t talking about the Chat Noir profile.

 

“-I mean quite clearly not a lot, maybe like a little hamster running in a wheel or something, but-”

“The Ladybug profile is fake _too_?”

“ _Of c_ \- Wait, ‘too’? What do you mean ‘too’?”

“Th-”

 

Oh my god. Oh my _god_.

 

Ladybug was staring at him (or rather, seemingly straight through him), her jaw unhinged.

 

“T-that’s a fake- You don’t- The Chat Noir profile is _fake_?”

“Yes!” Yes! Chat was grinning like a maniac. He propped himself up on his elbows. Yes! Finally! “Yes!”

 

Silence as they both let that sink in.

 

Chat Noir’s face fell.

 

“You _punched_ me.”

 

“Oh my god!” Ladybug scuttled away from him like an enormous crab. She yanked at her pigtails in distress, eyes nearly popping from their sockets as she grabbed at her hip for her yoyo like she was… What was she trying to… To...

 

Chat's eyes flashed: to escape! Nope, he wasn't done yet-

 

He lunged, arms snapping around her thighs as Ladybug squealed, pitching backwards over his shoulders mid yoyo-fling like a toppled tenpin-

 

To fall very heavily on top of him.

 

Chat Noir decided that he was rapidly becoming weary of being crushed into this particular rooftop.

 

Although, having a nice warm ( _soft_ ) body pressed up against the entire line of his was decidedly an improvement. Even if His Lady’s thighs were pressing his nose into the gravel.

 

“I’m sorry,” came a very very tiny voice from somewhere by his knees. “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

 

Chat sighed, his eyes slipping shut of their own accord as his whole body sagged in _relief_. She believed him. Just like that. He was so relieved, in fact, that he couldn't find it in himself to be angry-

 

“And I'm sorry I punched you… In the face…”

 

-okay no he was a bit miffed about that bit.

 

“That _hurt_ ,” he addressed her ankles sternly. “ _Ow_.”

 

Ladybug groaned, a crunch? Another groan.

 

“If it helps, I just dropped my face in a big pile of gravel,” she whined.

 

Snrk.

 

He was swallowing chuckles before he knew it.

 

Boy, what a day.

 

“Heh, yeah…” said Ladybug meekly.

 

…

 

A scrape and a sudden chill (Chat shivered) as the other body peeled itself from his. Her legs pulled themselves free from the now loose circle of his arms. He heard her settle somewhere by his head, and he could feel her looking at him.

 

Chat remained lying face-down on the roof, absently wondering why he'd ever entertained the idea of having a Facebook profile. Nothing but trouble.

 

A warm hand pressed gently between his shoulder blades.

 

“...Chat Noir?”

 

He hummed, soaking in the warmth of that small hand. That small hand that had nearly dislocated his jawbone. Best to remember that one in the future.

 

“I- I really am- S-s-sorr-sorry… Um…”

 

He rolled over then (she didn't lift her hand and it dragged to settle on the curve of his bicep) and looked up at her with one long eye.

 

Ladybug’s legs were tucked under her, her other arm draped defensively across her stomach as she curled into herself. Her chin was lowered so that it nearly touched her chest; he couldn't see her eyes until the wind gently pushed her hair aside (he wished he was brave enough to do it himself): she was looking at her knees and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her brow creased.

 

“Hey,” he breathed. She winced- He couldn't have that, so he gently poked her knee with a single claw. “Hey, know what'd make it up to me?”

 

Ladybug fidgeted before answering in a small voice that didn't suit her.

 

“What?”

 

Chat spread his arms as wide as they'd go (lying down anyway) and said in his most serious voice: “A hug.”

 

She laughed, clear as a bell, and Chat always felt a bit better after hearing that sound. He lowered his arms. That alone would do, he thought.

 

Ladybug dropped her forehead onto his shoulder and he wondered if it would be suspicious if he _asked_ her to punch him in the face again because if hugs (well… Sort of hug? Maybe?) were the reward that's fine, Ladybug, you can push me off a roof if you like so long as it results in hugs, even sort-of-hugs, I don't mind!

 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, mumbling into his suit. “I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, of course you wouldn't… Wouldn't… You're not like that at all.”

 

“That’s alright,” Chat's heart warmed at the stuttered vote of confidence. “I'm just happy you believe me.”

 

She hummed.

 

“Seems to be going around,” said Ladybug after a brief pause. “My friend just had the same thing happen to him.”

 

“What, he was clocked in the face by the most beautiful girl in Paris? I'm hurt: I thought what we had was special!”

 

She shoved off him then with a loud raspberry, sitting back on her hands. Reproachful amusement sculpted her lips into the most delicate of smirks.

 

“No, actually, someone’s been running a fake profile in his name and he just found out about it.”

 

Huh, fancy that.

 

“So, um, anyway…” Ladybug tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, squirming a little. He realised she'd said a bit more than she wanted to: he understood, their civilian lives were not up for discussion.

 

When he remembered that, with a pang of sadness, the logical conclusion to follow was that no, he couldn't tell Ladybug (even in the vaguest of terms) about Adrien’s very stressful day.

 

That made Plagg’s seemingly very good advice pretty much useless.

 

Then again…

 

Adrien's problems had to remain only Adrien’s, but Chat Noir’s? Those, at least, they could solve together.

 

“So,” he tried, propping himself up on an elbow. “What's the plan?”

 

Lady blinked at him.

 

“Plan?” She echoed.

 

“Should we tell the press that the profiles aren't ours?” That we aren't really in a relationship? He didn't really want to voice that one. He was enjoying the illusion.

 

Ladybug’s expression set into a very familiar and oh so reassuring one: Chat recognised it immediately as ‘battle mode’.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” she declared. “I only need to speak to one. Leave that with me. I say for now, let's see if we can't find out who has been yanking everyone's chains, shall we?”

 

Intrigued, Chat sat up straight.

 

“How?”

 

Ladybug pulled the yoyo from her hip, flipping open the compact and glancing up at him from under her eyelashes.

 

“How much do you know about IP addresses?”

 

Aha. Clever bug.

 

Chat smirked. He crossed his legs, leaning towards her on his elbows.

 

“Enough to know that if our mysterious facebookers haven't been outed to the public already that they’ll almost certainly be encoded.”

 

Ladybug shrugged, seemingly unfazed by that vital piece of information, and if Chat wasn't burning with curiosity before he certainly was now.

 

“It's really quite amazing,” she said airily. “What technology can do nowadays. Or should I say…”

 

A few deft strokes on the touchscreen of the yoyo in her hands. Then, a beep! Ladybug flipped the screen towards him, showing a little tracking dot blinking cheerily in the darkness of the rooftop.

 

“...miraculous.”

 

Chat Noir beamed.

 

\---

 

His smile dropped like a stone when, twenty minutes later, he once again found himself looking up at the Gabriel head offices.

 

“...what the _fuck_?”

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh nooooo here we go againnnn


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi folks - thank you so much for your patience! hopefully this marks the end of the creative dry spell and i can actually update stuff. fingers crossed!! enjoyy

Chat Noir, night vision and all, nearly walked straight into his partner when she suddenly stopped in the middle of a very dark hallway on the 8th floor.  

 

Were they there already?

 

He shook himself a little, trying to snap out of the mental loop he’d been spinning through since they’d broken into the Gabriel offices. Again. God,  _ again _ . Chat fought the urge to groan aloud.  

 

This whole situation was beyond ridiculous. His expectations of reality seemed to be unraveling faster than a spool of thread tied to a cat’s tail.  

 

WhatwouldfathersayifheknewthatLadybug’s(fake)facebookaccountwasbeingrunoutofhisofficeswhatwould _ Ladybug _ sayifsheknewthather(fake)faceboookaccountwasbeingrunoutof _ hisfather’s _ officeswhatwould-

 

Enough! Focus!

 

Following his Lady through the horribly familiar maze of carpeted corridors was easy enough to do on autopilot, but if they’d tracked the culprit then he actually needed to pay attention. Plus. He was rather curious about his alter alter ego, and to know who exactly his alter alter ego had just gone facebook official with. 

 

Chat’s cheeks felt a bit warm.

 

_ Focus _ !

 

He craned his neck over Ladybug’s shoulder, squinting down at the screen in her palm.

 

The little red dot blinked back: bright and cheery and... Nowhere near them. 

 

Chat frowned. Then why..? His ears twitched: he couldn’t  _ hear _ anything dangerous. Lifting his eyes, he was met with a long expanse of pale neck and the soft curve of a jaw, she wasn’t looking at her compact, she was looking at-

 

“Ladybug?” 

 

She didn’t even flinch, didn’t even seem to notice that he’d spoke. Ladybug was staring at the door to her right with an intensity that should’ve reduced it to ashes, her brow knitted and her eyes dark with unreadable calculations. The door that read-

 

Chat’s stomach shrivelled into a tight and very uncomfortable knot.

 

Social Media Management.

 

...oh for  _ fuck’s _ sake.  

 

He was  _ just here _ . There was no  _ way _ \- This was  _ absurd _ -

 

And she was turning the door handle and if she switched on a computer and pulled up facebook she wouldn’t find a Ladybug or Chat Noir profile but she might find the horrifically cringey Fakedrien Fakegreste and, hey, if the Ladybug profile was  _ also _ a fake then there’s a chance that the  _ real _ Ladybug might not have seen “his” profile and there was also a chance that he could salvage both of his reputations in the eyes of his true love in one evening and had his luck  _ ever _ been that good-

 

-evidently not, because the swipe he made for her arm missed her by a hair.

 

“Bug,” he hissed, “Bug-”

 

“Wait here a sec, I just wanna, uh, check something-”

“But-”

“Guard the door.”

 

Oh shit. Shitty shit shit-  

 

He jammed his foot in said door.

 

“I can do it from in here!” Chat stuffed himself through the gap after her, cutting off his partner’s splutters of protest with his own babbling. “Glass- Glass walls can see through- I mean I can see through the glass, so I’ll just be here seeing, I mean watching, I mean guarding the door through the glass-”

“Um,” Ladybug’s voice held an interesting note of strain. “Do you  _ have _ to- I mean-! Just! Just make sure you keep watching, I-I thought I heard something, s-so just keep your eyes on that door, while I, uh, um… Look around...”

“Okay!” Chat effectively flattened his face against the glass. “Got it! Guarding the door!”

 

Silence.

 

He immediately swivelled his head around to get a peek at what she was- Ladybug had a firm grip on the side of his face, pushing him back to face the glass.

 

“The door!” Oh dear, that was The Stern Voice. Her hands fell away but he could still feel her glare boring into the back of his skull.

 

“I’m guarding it, I’m guarding it!”  

 

Silence again. 

 

She was watching him, so he waited.

 

“Still looking,” he licked his lips nervously. “Nothing’s coming, you’re all clear!”

 

More silence, and then the soft clicking of fingertips against keys.

 

Chat gnawed on his bottom lip. Which machine had she gone to? He couldn’t tell- She’d probably try them all. But why were they here anyway, the tracking dot placed the actual source several floors below them? I mean, logically, it seemed prudent to check the Social Media Management office, sure, but… Oh god, she’s going to try them all, she’s going to see- More keyboard-tapping, from a different side of the room- He  _ had _ to see what she was doing, surely she couldn’t detect the slightest tilt of his head… Green met blue and OH FUCK. 

 

_ “Chat Noir!” _

 

Her voice was very near hysterical, and frankly much  _ much _ too loud for a stealth mission, but Chat was too busy smothering a scream to notice. Ladybug darted in front of the screen, far too late, to hide what was unmistakably the facebook profile of Adrien Agreste. No no no-

 

“Ladybug,” he gurgled. “What’re you doing?”

 

To his absolute horror, she lunged at the keyboard, fingers fumbling for the mouse.

 

“N-nothing! I’ll just be a minute-”

“That is  _ not _ your-”

“It’s fine!”

“It is  _ not _ -”

“It’s fine I know him, w-we’re friends and I’m doing him a favour!”

 

... _ what _ .

 

Chat Noir’s mind abruptly emptied of anything resembling coherent thought.

 

Ladybug was rambling. My  _ god _ was she rambling: it was as if all her her filters had been turned off by the shock of being caught-

 

“We’re friends and he found out today that his father’s company runs a facebook profile behind his back and he was  _ horrified-” _

 

... _ WHAT _ .

 

“-so I’m doing him a favour and deleting it while I’m here because it’s really the only chance he’ll-”

  
  


_ The application ‘Chat Noir’ has unexpectedly quit. _ _   
_ _ The system and other applications have most definitely been affected. _ _   
_ __ Click Relaunch to launch the application again. Click Report to see more details or send a report to holy fucking fuck what the actual fuck oh my fuckity fuck FUCK-

  
  


  1. Ladybug was friends with Adrien Agreste. Sure, he knew that already. I mean they knew each other, Ladybug and Adrien. They’d met a few times. Sure.
  2. Ladybug was privy to the conversation that he’d only had with three other people and one irritable kwami earlier that day. But Ladybug _hadn’t been there_.
  3. Ladybug, short of hanging from the rafters of the classroom, had definitely not been there. She hadn’t. If he hadn’t noticed, Alya sure as hell would’ve. That girl had a built-in Ladybug radar. Ladybug can’t have heard that conversation, and she hadn’t. Been. There.  
...not as Ladybug, anyway.
  4. Not as Ladybug, anyway.
  5. No, no, maybe there was someone in the hallway. Maybe someone had overheard… Yeah, that was possible. Or what if his friends had told someone else? Nino had loads of online friends, maybe he’d mentioned it to one of them. Had mentioned it to Ladybug. Or, Marinette knew Ladybug. Apparently. Hang on, no, but Ladybug had said that she was one of _his friends_. So… Had she been there? She hadn’t...
  6. Not as Ladybug, anyway. 
  7. Not as-



  
  


-wait, did she say delete?

 

What little colour Chat Noir’d had left in his face drained away into nothingness.

 

Nino’s blocked account. The message he’d sent about unblocking Nino’s blocked account. The message he’d sent from the account that Ladybug was about to delete (because she  _ knew him holy fucking shit- _ ).

 

“...wait,” his voice was  _ weak _ . “Wait-” 

 

Ladybug, hunched over the screen like a vulture, wasn’t listening. And she was on the settings page.

 

“W-wait! Stop!”

 

Maybe attempting to wedge himself between Ladybug and the computer wasn’t the cleanest solution but his head hurt,  _ there was so much to think about _ -

 

“Chat!”

“You can’t delete it-”

 

Ladybug swelled with rage, her cheeks puffing as she made a grab for the mouse- Chat Noir slammed his hand over the top of hers. The table quaked and the computer rattled dangerously, but Chat hardly noticed because his partner looked a good three neuron connections away from punching him in the face. Again. His jaw twinged at the thought.

 

Her expression fell.

 

“Look,” she squirmed, not looking him in the eye ( _ thank god thank god because what if he recognised her now _ ). “Look, I- I know it’s… Um… Underhanded… But...”

 

She made another dive for the mouse: a brief struggle saw each of her hands stuck to the desk either side of his hips by the weight of his palms. She tugged, he pressed harder. Ladybug gave a funny sort of frustrated whine.

 

“Let go!”

 

Oh, he wanted to.  _ God _ did he want to; he wanted to lift his hands and let her do away with the fresh source of today’s agony because she really was his knight in shining armour in every sense of the word, whoever she was… Whoever…

 

She was getting angry now. The eerie light of the screen behind him illuminated the rapidly colouring splotches on Ladybug’s cheeks. Ladybug’s cheeks. His knees shook because he’d seen the tops of those cheeks without a mask before if only he could put the pieces together-

 

“Look,” she said hotly. “He is my friend, and he’s  _ hurting _ , and I want to help him!”

“I know-”

“You didn’t see his face!”

 

That punched a noise out of him. 

 

“His face… We were  _ mean _ to him, and he must’ve thought- He doesn’t think he has a lot of friends, and I think he thought that- That we- Look, just- Can you  _ let go?! _ ”

 

He groaned out something that sounded a little bit like “no”, dropping his head to his chest because his brain must’ve suddenly tripled in weight with all this activity and his neck simply refused to support it any longer. She had  _ been there.  _ She'd been close enough to _ see his face. _

 

“Why not?!”

 

Because, Nino!

 

“I’m trying to help my friend!”

 

Me too! The irony was  _ agonizing _ . 

 

“Get off!”

 

I can’t!

 

She was writhing in earnest now. The mouse clattered to the floor behind him: a red foot flashed between his, his ankles automatically snapping shut to trap her leg between them. Ladybug squealed.

 

“Stop it!”

“ _ You _ stop it!” Ah.  _ There _ was his voice. Yikes, he barely recognised it, hoarse as it was. 

 

Suddenly the leg between his made a  _ viciously  _ high jump: Chat’s thighs fused together and his head whipped up because  _ holy shit had Ladybug seriously just tried to knee him in the _ -?!

 

Blue.

 

Oh, oh no, that was a mistake. 

 

For a one insane moment he considered closing his eyes in the hope that, hey, maybe he could pretend he’d never seen her eyes before. Yeah. Yeah, no. Too late. 

 

Far too late.

 

Ladybug’s nose twitched a little as she glared back: he had no idea what expression he’d plastered on his face, but it must’ve been truly something to douse even a little of the fire lighting up her irises like catherine wheels.

 

Her lips parted, slowly, to say-

 

“Who’s there?”

 

The flashlight flooded the room, drowning them both in bright, white,  _ obvious _ light. 

 

“Ladybug?! Chat Noir?!”

  
Oh crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats a cliffhanger i've never heard of a cliffhanger before


End file.
